(Pass it on)

There comes a time in a gay man’s life when survival is no longer the only goal. When there are more years behind than ahead, the protests, the loudness, the proving, the need to be noticed—all of that softens. In that quieter stage, what arises, if you live long enough, is perspective. From this perspective emerges an irrefutable truth: we are here because someone, somewhere, showed us kindness when they didn’t have to.

I first heard the phrase ‘random act of kindness’ back in the prehistoric ages of television, a time when Oprah Winfrey ruled the world. Whatever, whoever, or wherever Oprah went, the world seemed to follow. Since then, I’ve integrated random acts of kindness into my daily routine. Over the years, my approach has grown more nuanced and polished. I’ve found that performing random acts of kindness is one of the few things that consistently brings me joy. Every time. Every single time.

New Yorkers don’t know how to handle kindness. The look on a passenger’s face when I offer my subway seat, or the surprise on someone’s face when I hold the door as they struggle with groceries, a baby stroller, and a reactive dog, is priceless. Their gratitude lights up my brain, making both my day and theirs a little better.

Through years of practice, I’ve come to believe that random acts of kindness aren’t really random. They are, in fact, the infrastructure of the LGBTQ community. This is how we pass strength from one generation to the next. Especially in today’s world, which too often teaches queer people that love is only earned through perfection and performance.

Consider this: Kindness, freely given, is revolutionary.

For many younger gay men, the world still feels brutal—and, unfortunately, understandably so. This is the world we’ve created: bodies are judged, confidence is curated, and your worth is validated and measured in likes, hotness, and proximity to an AI-generated ideal. I recognize this struggle because I lived it, long before apps and algorithms amplified it. What saved me was kindness. Friends offered understanding, colleagues didn’t ask questions, and strangers showed me by example that a gay lifestyle doesn’t have to be hidden. It should be worn proudly, not stuffed in a closet.

Being kind is a Superpower. Once you tap into it, your true legacy begins to take root as you become the hero you never knew you were.

Don’t take my word for it. It’s science. When you do something nice for no reason—pay for a twink’s coffee behind you, or slide into someone’s DMs with “Your outfit is everything”—your brain reacts like it’s Mardi Gras day on Bourbon Street.

It’s called “helper’s high,” and it’s better than any pill or dime bag you’ll get from your dealer. Endorphins, oxytocin, serotonin—all the good shit floods in with the precision of a K-Pop video. You feel lighter, happier, and less like the world is out to get you.

As if the natural self-medication isn’t enough, there is a bonus to practicing random acts of kindness: It’s attractive. People notice, and it’s downright sexy. The barista who got a random compliment, the baby-gay you stood up for when you didn’t have to, that stranger on the subway? They remember. And you, my friend, are building your legend, one sweet gesture at a time.

In the Queer community, random acts of kindness transmit survival knowledge to the next generation without preaching. For example, a sincere compliment offered without expectation, speaking up for others when it would be easier to stay quiet, or even remembering a name. In these moments, we tell younger queer people, “You belong here. You don’t have to earn presence.” These tiny gestures can keep someone from spiraling and remind them they are not alone. That’s a huge return on such a minor investment.

I want to clarify something. Kindness is not charity from above. It is a mutual exchange. It keeps the heart permeable and hopeful. Aging is not about becoming irrelevant, but about becoming useful in a deeper way. That’s one of the many benefits younger gays gain from a Daddy-mentor.

When I offer kindness without needing admiration, acknowledgment, or control, something happens. I feel a reconnection with my younger self, the one who was insecure, scared, hopeful, and trying to figure out life, relying on limited tools and the kindness of strangers.

In giving kindness, I don’t lose power – I regain it.

Queer people have always built a family where none was offered. Random acts of kindness are the raw materials of that construction. Think about that. Look at your own lived experiences, and you’ll see that it’s the small gestures that forge acquaintances, build community, and create safety for those who need it most.

For younger gay men, especially those rejected or misunderstood at home, small kindnesses can have an outsized impact. A simple invitation to join a group or team. A check-in text. A reminder that their absence was noticed.

These small gestures are easy to perform and require minimal effort. So what makes them so powerful? They require you to be present. To show up for someone else.

Being present and showing up is what many of us needed most when we were young.

In my experience, most people struggle with kindness, but The Gays? Ha! Good Lawdy, Ms. Clawdy. Unconditional kindness sends these Hell’s Kitchen Queens into a full-blown Menti-Meltdown.

We live in a culture that treats connection as transactional. What do you offer? What can I get? How do you look? Dick pics? But random kindness disrupts that logic. It says, “You don’t owe me anything, and I don’t want anything from you.” For queer people, whose worth has so often been conditional, this message can be transformative.

As an older gay man, when I offer random kindness to a young, pretty gym-bunny, the look on their face is priceless. When they realize I have zero expectations, do not want their Insta or Grindr profiles, or that I left my phone at home, they show confusion, bewilderment, and uncertainty. Sometimes, the look may even beg the question: “Are you having a stroke?”

From my perspective, experiences like that confirm my belief: young gay people today lack substance—but it isn’t their fault. They need real-life acts of kindness. They need role models. We need to show, by example, the kind of community we all say we want. It’s not enough to talk the talk—you’ve got to sissy that walk.

I believe older gay people have a responsibility to our younger family members. We should recognize their identity, affirm their complexity, and show them that kindness fosters growth—not shame. Guidance can be offered without hierarchy. It teaches that strength can be gentle.

Bring it in, boys, let’s wrap this up.

Y’all think that confidence comes from the gym, the manscaping, the new Harness/Jockstrap from Breedwell? No. Real confidence comes from knowing you’re the kind of person who can make someone’s day better without needing credit.

When you practice random acts of kindness, you remind yourself: “I have power. I can heal. I matter.” Your self-esteem skyrockets, and your riz points soar. Stress drops, and blood pressure calms. Studies show that people who regularly help others live longer. Daddy’s been around long enough to tell you: in the queer community, longevity is a flex.

To all of you Alphas, don’t get it twisted: Kindness is not weakness. It is a restraint. It is knowing you could dismiss, belittle, or dominate – and choosing not to. In a world that’s still trying to dim our shine, being kind isn’t soft – it’s fierce! It’s powerful. Masculinity, queerness, and care can exist within the same body. Still in doubt? Prove me wrong.

Look, the truth is, most of us won’t be remembered for how we looked or how clever we were. We’ll be remembered – if we’re remembered at all – for how we made people feel in moments that mattered. So go out and make someone’s day; show up for someone, hold a door open, and toss a compliment to the cashier at Target.

Tap into your Superpower, baby. The world can never have enough heroes.

Thank you for reading. If you’d like to reply to this article or suggest topics for future articles, please drop me a line at RyanRockfordNYC@gmail.com.